


broken promises

by AFireInTheAttic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Body Horror, Character Death, F/M, Sad Ending, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic/pseuds/AFireInTheAttic
Summary: The three of them climb out of the car, Kira standing back, head swiveling and eyes sharp. She keeps the crossbow down, unwilling to shoot until she was positive the target is a target. Scott and Lydia focus on speed, getting to the car they’ll siphon from as quickly as possible. They’re both looking around, of course, but Kira is the one in charge of watching for threats.From her vantage point behind the other two, she can see movement in cars now. There’s a zeke struggling in a passenger seat two cars away from Lydia and Scott, trapped by its seatbelt. Kira is never more grateful for highway safety than when she’s watching zekes try to escape to eat her friends.





	broken promises

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot emphasize enough that this is depressing and there is MAJOR character death ok??? 
> 
> Cross-posted from a scira blog that I mod; requested by anon: 
> 
> "Kira, the virus attacks Kira and she spends her last moments with Scott, lying in his arms."

“We’re almost out of gas,” Kira says. 

In the passenger seat, Scott keeps scanning the radio. “Lydia?” he asks, not looking up. The radio plays static on every station.

“Stop at the next mid-sized sedan you see,” Lydia replies. She’s stretched out in the backseat, feet propped against the window. As always, she’s scribbling furiously into a notebook, trying to figure out some way to inoculate them against the virus. As always, she’s not making much progress. The backseat of a Honda Civic with no supplies isn’t ideal conditions for a lab.

Kira hums tunelessly, wishing for literally anything to come on the radio. They keep it on and switch through it in hopes that some radio station will announce a safe harbor from the zekes, but so far there’s been nothing. Scott hasn’t given up hope yet, though, so neither will she. 

Down the road, she sees a pileup of cars on the interstate. There will probably be zekes in some of the cars—children strapped in or adults who have been dormant without anyone else around. This is pretty normal, though, and the three of them have a system. They figured out they needed one after Stiles had been eaten right in front of them. 

She slows to a stop about 20 feet away from the back car. 

Scott turns off the radio and Lydia sits up straight in the backseat. “Movement?” she asks, quietly gathering the tubes and gas can she’ll use to siphon fuel from one of the cars. 

“I don’t see anything,” Scott replies, but he leans forward and squints anyway. He grabs his machete and Allison’s crossbow from under his seat. 

Kira turns off the car and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Scott, stick with Lydia. I’ll follow up from the back.” She takes the crossbow from Scott and pulls the sheath of bolts from between her seat and the armrest. She lost her katana back in Beacon Hills, and Lydia had handed over the crossbow, since she’d never been great at using it anyway.

Lydia opens the back door and grabs the equipment. She has a gun, but they try to only use that in dire straights. That burst of sound would attract zekes for miles. “Let’s go.” 

The three of them climb out of the car, Kira standing back, head swiveling and eyes sharp. She keeps the crossbow down, unwilling to shoot until she was positive the target  _is_  a target. Scott and Lydia focus on speed, getting to the car they’ll siphon from as quickly as possible. They’re both looking around, of course, but Kira is the one in charge of watching for threats.  _  
_

From her vantage point behind the other two, she can see movement in cars now. There’s a zeke struggling in a passenger seat two cars away from Lydia and Scott, trapped by its seatbelt. Kira is never more grateful for highway safety than when she’s watching zekes try to escape to eat her friends. 

Lydia has the tubes set up now, a rag wrapped tightly around them. She blows into the shorter tube to start the flow of gas through the longer one.

There’s no movement outside of the cars, as far as Kira can see. She doesn’t relax, though. Can’t be too safe these days.

Gas is moving through the tube fast enough that Lydia can sit back and pull her shirt over her mouth and nose. It’s ineffective against gas fumes, apparently, but makes her feel better. 

Several things happen at once as Lydia sits down. Up ahead, a car alarm goes off—the victim of a zeke who can only crawl, apparently. Kira sees a zeke stumble out of the woods to her right, dragging behind it the carcass of what looks like a deer. Lydia yanks out her gun, hand shaking but ready. Scott glances at Kira, and then shouts at her to look out. 

Teeth close around Kira’s left shoulder and she screams. She can feel the zeke breaking her skin, and her muscle and nerves. Her left arm is basically useless now, but she draws on old days of self-defense classes and smashes her right elbow into the zekes stomach. It lets her go and she darts back far enough to lift the crossbow and shoot it in the head. At such close range, she doesn’t miss. She’s not so sure she’ll be able to hit the one walking toward them from the woods, though, not with the blinding pain. 

But she has to. She’s not going to make it out of today alive, but she’ll make sure Scott and Lydia do. Somehow. 

Scott is already running toward her, but she just backs up until she’s even with the car again. He catches up to her and helps her shuffle back. 

“Go back to Lydia,” she demands. “You two need to get out of here.” She props the crossbow on the hood of the car and squints through one eye at the zeke. It’s moving slow enough that she should be able to—"Shit!“ she shouts, as the crossbow clatters to the pavement. Her grip failed her.

Lydia is packing up the gas siphoning stuff and running back to the car, Scott hot on her heels. She practically rips the gas cap off of the civic and shoves the nozzle of the can into the tank. “Dammit,” she mutters.

Kira scrambles for the bow. She slams face first into the pavement after she tries to lean on her left arm and it gives out. She grunts but just grabs the bow with her right hand. No time to complain, not now. Not with one zeke already here and several more sure to be on their way with the noise from the car alarm.

She manages to push herself back up and get the box back onto the hood of the car. The zeke is only twenty feet away now, so she has only one shot before the other two are in danger. Wheezing, she locks in a bolt, takes aim, and fires as best she can. 

It’s not a head shot, but she hit its neck, enough that the thing stumbles onto the ground. 

"You have to get out of here,” she says, looking back at Lydia and Scott. “I don’t have much time.”

Lydia tosses the gas can into the backseat and hurries over to Kira. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, taking the crossbow and the bolts from her.

“Learn how to use them,” Kira says, smiling at her weakly. She grabs Lydia’s arm as the girl starts to pull away. “You have to drive. He won’t be able to for a while after this. You have to—compartmentalize for him, okay? Scott is too much heart. He won’t manage it.”

Lydia furiously wipes away tears and nods. “I will. I’ll take care of him.” 

Behind her, she can hear the zeke trying to stand up again. She must not have hit the spinal chord right. 

Scott falls to his knees next to Kira. “You—can’t,” he says. He wraps his arms around her carefully, and she falls forward to rest her head on his shoulder. 

“But I am,” she says, wincing as he squeezes her tightly. “You know what I need you to do.”

The machete scrapes against the ground as Lydia picks it up to go kill the zeke Kira had shot down. 

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. 

The movement jostles her head a bit, and she coughs blood onto his shoulder. “You better get rid of this shirt,” she says weakly. “And Scott—I—I need you to. I can’t be a zombie. I don’t want it.” 

Behind them, flesh tears as Lydia brings the machete down. “Fucker,” she hisses angrily.

“We promised never to say the z-word,” Scott says. He’s crying, still rubbing his thumbs over her waist.

“I know.”

“You broke your promise,” he whispers.

“I know.” She pats his back with her right hand. She’s not crying, because she won’t do it to him. It doesn’t even hurt any more, which is a bad sign. The change is coming. “You have to do this Scott. Kill me before the virus takes,  _please_. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else dying.” 

"I don’t want to." 

"Then make Lydia do it,” Kira insists, pulling away from him. She’s too weak to actually escape his embrace, but he lets her go anyway. “She’ll—please, Scott. Don’t make me become a monster." 

Lydia walks over to stand next to them. “I can do it,” she whispers. She’s not looking at Kira; she’s looking at Scott. “She’s right. We can’t let her have that fate.” 

Scott stares at Lydia for several seconds, and then looks back at Kira, pleading.

She tries to smile at him, but she ends up wheezing, fingers scrambling to grab onto his arm so she doesn’t fall over. 

He takes the crossbow from Lydia and lifts it to Kira’s forehead. “Are you sure?”

She nods, and the bolt snicks against her skin. The pain hardly registers. “I love you,” she says.

"I love you, too,” he whispers, and pulls the trigger.


End file.
